


Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

by jstabe



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: Halloween has to be James’ least favorite holiday.





	Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Clint Barton Bingo square Handcuffs. Inspired by a meme on Facebook that made me think of Winterhawk. Borrowed comic Clint for this one for something different.

Halloween has to be James’ least favorite holiday. This is the fifth noise complaint he and Steve have been sent out on since starting their shift. He fucking hates nuisance calls, but it’s part of the job. He steps out of the cruiser, aware of Steve doing the same on the other side. Steve, of course, is all friendly smiles, ready and willing to be the good cop. James has never pretended to be anything other than the surly bad cop. The dynamic has been working for them since the second grade and he can’t see a reason to change it. 

The building is relatively small compared to its neighbors, only four stories, but every light is blazing. Inside the building, there are less apartments than James would have assumed. They must be bigger units, and he finds himself a little envious. Even sharing with Steve, rent in Brooklyn is no joke, and their place isn’t nearly as big as these units seem to be. He sighs as they make their way to the stairs. It’s perfectly quiet on this level so that means they get to search the damn building since their complainer hadn’t had a clue what apartment was the offending one. 

The second and third floors are quiet too and James’ head is throbbing. Fake nuisance calls are even more annoying than real ones. Steve is still grinning, unaffected by James’ mood. James would hit him, but it wouldn’t do any good. Since Steve hit a growth spurt in sophomore year of college, he towers over James and is built like the proverbial brick shit house. It’d be annoying if James didn’t love the guy like family. 

“You notice anything weird?” Steve asks, oblivious to James’ rude thoughts. 

“Like the absence of noise in a building with a noise complaint?” 

“Well, yeah, but look at the apartment numbers. Letters, whatever.” 

James hadn’t been paying attention, but he looks now. There had been four doors on the first floor, three on the second. There are three on this floor too and it takes a second for him to see what Steve had. The apartments are lettered, and the ones on this floor are P, D, and K. 

“That doesn’t make any freaking sense.” 

“Kinda quirky,” Steve says. “I like it.” 

“You would,” James huffs. 

Steve just grins at him like the perpetually sunny puppy he is. James gives up and makes his way to the fourth floor. They’ve barely opened the door to let them onto the floor and James can already hear music. It’s not incredibly loud, but James supposes if you live next to the apartment or below it, then it might be. Except he can see now that there are only two apartment doors on this floor; one labeled H, and the other with no letter at all. The blank door is dark underneath, but H has light spilling out so that’s the one he knocks on. It takes three tries before someone pulls it open. 

“Good evening. I’m Officer Barnes. I’m looking for the owner of this apartment.” 

The kid (he’s probably high school age, but James has felt about eighty since he was twenty-five and he has a hard time judging) blinks owlishly at him before a wide grin splits his face. 

“Oh, man, Hawkeye’s gonna love this.” He turns his head to yell into the apartment. “Hey, Katie, cops!” 

James really hopes the bottle in the kid’s hand is non-alcoholic, but he certainly doesn’t seem worried to be holding it in front of an officer. Still, people are weird. James is just going to handle one thing at a time. 

The kid steps back to let them in, closing the door behind Steve as a young girl joins them. She’s probably the same age as the door greeter, with long dark hair. She eyes James appraisingly before shrugging. 

“Last I saw him he was headed that way.” She waves in the direction of a corner towards the back of the apartment. “Knowing him, he’ll be ass up when you find him.” 

James shoots a look at Steve, who looks just as perplexed as James does. He shrugs and James mirrors him before they both head in the direction she pointed. At least they’ll get closer to an answer. James just wants to finish this call, and this damn holiday. 

There’s a crowd milling around the back corner, all of whom are laughing and yelling at something James can’t see through the throng. He moves behind Steve and pushes him forward, using Steve’s bulk to part the crowd. Steve turns to give him an eye roll but allows himself to be used as a bulldozer. He’s handy sometimes, James will give him that. 

They reach a little empty pocket and James ducks around Steve in time to be slapped with the image of a very nice ass encased in black leather. Said ass is definitely up and James has to wonder if this is the person they’ve been looking for. James almost hopes not. He’s found himself in the very uncomfortable position of noticing someone while he’s on duty. That’s not usually a problem for him but it’s a truly impressive ass, and the thighs are pretty great too. 

The man is ass up because he’s kneeling over a tub filled with apples. The crowd is still chanting when the guy lifts his head, water spraying everywhere. There’s an apple caught in his teeth that he drops into his outstretched hand. In moves so quick James nearly misses the sequence, he tosses the apple in the air, grabs a bow from his lap and fires an arrow. The arrow pierces the apple and pins it to the ceiling, next to a line of similar pieces of fruit. 

“That’s going to piss off the landlord,” Steve says mildly, a little curve to his lips that says he’s just as impressed as James is. 

One of the partygoers overhears Steve and laughs. “Nah, man it’s all cool. Clint...” 

Bow and arrow guy stands up and James completely misses whatever the partier was saying because holy shit. Not only does the guy have an amazing ass, but he’s taller than Steve. Broader at the shoulders too and how is this fair? James is _working_. He shouldn’t be ogling someone, especially someone with no regard for someone else’s property. James would kill to have an apartment this size, and he damn sure wouldn’t shoot holes in it. 

The guy turns around and James now gets a full view of his front, which is almost as nice as the back. James recognizes the Green Arrow costume now, though the guy has modified it. James has seen the show and he’s pretty sure that guy’s suit has sleeves. Then again, maybe that guy’s arms aren’t as good. Those are some seriously ripped biceps. James knows these things; he’s watched Steve work out. 

The guy shakes water from his head like a dog, grinning at his crowd of admirers. He spots James and Steve and his gaze widens before he gives them an appreciative once-over. 

“Ohh, who called the cops?” he asks the crowd, laughing when everyone cheers. He turns his attention to James. “Nice costumes. Real authentic.” 

And of course, that would be the reaction. James sighs heavily. He starts to answer but the guy’s eyes go wide when he notices James’ hand. 

“Holy shit, dude, that’s metal.” 

James rolls his eyes. He’s well aware, thanks. It’s his freaking hand. 

“So, are you like the cop from Terminator then? That liquid metal dude?” 

Before James can answer, someone in the crowd yells “Clint!” Arrow guy, who is apparently Clint barely turns his head as he pulls an arrow from the quiver on his back and fires, pinning another apple to the ceiling without even really looking. It’s fucking impressive, and the crowd cheers louder. Clint’s full attention shifts back to them, blue eyes sparkling. 

“Okay, anyway. Where’d you get such an awesome looking hand? It looks real.” 

“Afghanistan,” James says drily. “IED.” 

Clint is staring at James’ mouth intently. He cocks his head, frowning. “Wait, IUD? How...” 

The girl that sent them this way has appeared at Clint’s side, and she rolls her eyes, smacks one of those magnificent biceps. “**IED**, dumb ass.” 

Clint blinks down at her and then nods. “Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Exploding vaginas are just...” 

He shudders and James find himself flabbergasted. Steve is trying, badly, not to laugh and James wants to hit him. 

“Have you been drinking tonight, sir?” 

It’s probably a stupid question, all things considered, and Clint ignores it when his attention shifts back to James. 

“A real metal hand, huh? ‘s fucking cool.” 

“The entire arm, actually, and considering it’s there because the old one exploded...” 

James isn’t really sure why he even says that. He _never_ talks about the arm. He can see Steve’s incredulous expression from the corner of his eye and fights a blush. Clint is just nodding enthusiastically. 

“Oh yeah, man, I get it. Absolutely. But at least you have a cool new one instead of, you know, nothing?” 

The girl is shaking her head like she’s never seen or anything as tragic as Clint and she smacks him again. “Hey, maybe turn on your ears so this conversation is a little less offensive.” 

Clint blinks at her and then his expression goes sheepish. He hands her his bow, reaches into a pocket to dig out a Kleenex. He wipes at his ears, shoves the Kleenex back into his pocket, and fishes something out of another pocket. He reaches up and James realizes that he’s fitting hearing aids into place. He takes his bow back and gives James and Steve a smile. 

“Still won’t hear you that great. It’s too loud in here for them to filter out this much sound.” 

James feels a little less murderous somehow in the face of Clint’s obvious disability. It kind of makes it clear he wasn’t being insensitive when he found out the metal hand was real. James assumes not anyway. He’s looking entirely too sheepish to have insulted James on purpose. He decides to let it go so he and Steve can actually get to the point of why they’re there and finally get the hell out of there. He’s just starting to speak when something over James’ shoulder catches his attention. 

“Oh hey, there’s Phil. Help yourself to whatever, hot cops. I’ll find you later!” 

“Wait!” 

James’ yell does no good and the guy is off. James spends the next fifteen minutes following him around the room, trying to divert his attention from everything from ‘Phil’ to a dog that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Finally, James’ patience snaps and he finds himself grabbing Clint’s elbow and escorting him to an empty corner of the room. He’s doing his best to ignore the warmth of Clint’s skin and it’s fairly easy since he’s getting angrier by the second. 

“Listen, Clint....” 

“God, you’ve got the prettiest eyes.” 

James blinks, dumbfounded. “That’s not really... thanks? But that’s not...” 

Loud cheering goes up from the corner where the apple tub is, and Clint’s gaze shifts that way. The dark-haired girl has a bow of her own now, and she’s shooting apples with as much competency as Clint had. Jesus, these people have no regard for another person’s property. It’s pissing James off, much like everything else tonight. 

“Clint, I need to...” 

Clint’s still staring off in the distance as Steve finally finds them. “Man, Katie is stealing all my party tricks. I've got to go!” 

“No,” James says firmly. “You need to...” 

“Oh, Nat!” 

Clint starts moving away again and James is livid. What the hell is with this guy? Deciding he’s done screwing around, he grabs the handcuffs from his belt and reaches out to grab Clint before he gets too far. In a couple of quick motions, he has Clint’s hands cuffed behind his back. Now maybe the asshole will stand still long enough for James to do his damn job. 

Clint blinks at him, looking a little stunned, and then he grins. “Wow. That was really sexy, how you put those cuffs on me. Am I gonna need a safe word?” 

James’ jaw drops. “The fuck is wrong with you?” 

Steve is trying valiantly not to laugh. James is going to murder him and leave him in a dumpster out back of this building, he swears to God. He shoots Steve a glare meant to convey just that before turning his attention back to Clint. Clint’s still grinning at him but then his gaze shifts back over James’ shoulder. 

“Shit, I got to grab Nat.” He gives a little shimmy and a second later he’s holding James’ cuffs out to him. “I’ll be right back.” 

James doesn’t even think, just holds his hand out. Clint gives him the cuffs and takes off, leaving James staring after him in bewilderment. Steve has given up all pretense and is laughing so hard James is afraid he’s going to piss himself. It would serve the asshole right. He shoots Steve a glare meant to convey exactly that before he, once again, follows Clint across the apartment. 

Clint is having an animated conversation with a gorgeous red head dressed as a ballerina. She’s frowning, either at whatever Clint is saying or at the fact that he’s gesticulating so wildly that he’s nearly hit her once or twice. 

“... and he’s got this... hey, James! I was telling Nat about you.” 

James is just done with all of this. He grabs one flailing hand and cuffs Clint again, glaring at him. “Stay in them this time or I’ll charge you with resisting arrest.” 

“See?” Clint says to Nat, and he’s positively gleeful. “It’s like he’s really a cop or something!” 

“I _am_ really a cop, damn it!” 

Clint blinks at him, cocks his head in confusion. “No, that’s...” He looks at Nat. “You didn’t, like, hire them or something?” 

“Hire them for what?” 

Nat sounds as confused as James feels. 

“Like stripper cops or something? I mean, look at them!” 

“Why would you need stripper cops on Halloween?” 

“I think why wouldn’t you is the better question,” Clint says, handing James’ cuffs back to him. 

Steve is laughing again, so hard that he has to lean against the wall. James is putting in a new partner request as soon as he gets back to the station. Maybe he’ll ask for a transfer to the K-9 unit. Having a dog for a partner has to be less stressful than having a Steve. 

James gives up and clips the cuffs back to his belt, turns a glare on Clint. “I am not a stripper of any kind. I am an actual officer. Sadly, so is the jerk currently holding up your wall and laughing at me.” Steve grins and Clint grins back at him. James rolls his eyes. “We were sent here to investigate a noise complaint?” 

“Huh. You’re really a cop?” 

“I really am,” James says. 

“Huh.” Clint grabs an arrow from the quiver on his back, uses it to scratch his chin thoughtfully. “Why would anyone call in a noise complaint?” He stuffs the arrow into a corkboard on the wall. 

James waves a hand to indicate the general chaos of the place. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe you have a downstairs neighbor who is fed up.” 

Clint laughs and James tries to ignore the way it lights up his eyes. “No way, man. I own this building and everyone that lives here has been by tonight. Can’t be...” 

Those beautiful eyes go wide with understanding then dark with anger before Clint whirls to stomp his way across the apartment. James follows, because that is clearly his lot in life. Clint throws open a window and steps out onto the fire escape, screams towards the building across the alley. 

“Fuck you and your noise complaint, Rumlow, you homophobic dick!” He steps back inside and slams the window closed, takes a deep breath. He smiles sheepishly at James. “Neighbor who happens to be a co-worker. He hates me because I’m better than he is and also because he’s a homophobic dick and I won’t rent to him.” 

James scrubs a hand across his face, shakes his head. “I am so confused right now.” 

Clint shrugs, rocks back and forth on his feet a bit. “Well. I, uh. Wow. I really did resist arrest, huh?” 

James sighs. “I didn’t actually read you your rights or anything. I just fucking wanted you to stand still.” 

He gets a slow smile for that and his stomach does a little flip. Jesus, this has been the most ridiculous night. 

“I could, umm, buy you a coffee? For your trouble?” 

James is about to say no. He needs to say no. Granted the guy isn’t in actual trouble. Having coffee with him wouldn’t be a breach of ethics or anything. But James just knows this guy is going to be trouble. Smarter to say no. 

“I’m not off until midnight,” he says instead. 

The smile widens, and James is so screwed. “I won’t turn into a pumpkin. People will still be here. You could come back. Finish off the party with us.” Clint’s cheeks go a little pink. “Then I could take you to breakfast?” 

James bites his lip, knows he needs to say no, but Clint’s gaze drops to his mouth and fuck it. “Yeah. Yes, I’ll come back after my shift.” 

“And stay for breakfast?” 

That doesn’t sound quite the same as the invitation earlier had, but James doesn’t care. “Pancakes?” 

“With chocolate chips.” 

“You’re on.” 

Clint is beaming so widely it makes _James'_ face hurt, and he finds himself smiling back. He lets Clint walk him to the door, collects his errant partner, who is in an avid conversation with Nat. Outside, it’s fucking cold as hell, but James doesn’t care. He’s practically humming as he slides into the driver’s seat of the patrol car. Steve gets in on the other side, grinning. 

“Shut it, Stevie.” 

“Oh, come on, Buck. That was the most interesting call we’ve been on in weeks.” 

“I like uninteresting. Means no one is shooting at us. And don’t call me Bucky at work. It’s not professional.” 

“Sure, Buck,” Steve says, because he’s an asshole. “Was it professional to get Clint’s number?” 

“I did not get his number,” James says as he pulls out into traffic. 

“But you are seeing him again.” 

James lasts five seconds before he gives in and lets the smile break free. “He invited me back to the party when our shift is over.” 

Steve crows like the jackass he is, holds up his hand for a high five. James isn’t a teenager, but he’s not an asshole who can leave his best friend hanging so he slaps Steve’s palm. He gets about three minutes of silence before Steve starts squirming. 

“What, Steve?” 

“Do you, uh, do you think it would be okay for me to go with you?” He’s blushing beet red; James can tell even though the only light is from the streetlights or the headlights of passing cars. “I liked Nat. She was crazy smart and we were in the middle of an interesting talk.” 

James laughs, shakes his head. “Yeah, okay, why the hell not?” 

They’re nearly back to the station when a thought hits him and he slams on the brakes, thankfully with no one else behind them. Steve looks at him, startled. 

“What the hell, Bucky?” 

“Steve. What the fuck am I supposed to put in our report?” 

Steve looks at him then, jaw dropping before he starts to laugh. “Oh god. Sharon is going to kill us.” 

James groans, puts his foot back on the gas and finishes the drive to the station. Their boss is going to have a field day with this. Oh well. At least he’s getting pancakes out of this deal. And another shot at seeing Clint’s smile. 

Worth it.


End file.
